


I am Human

by the_rain_shall_fall



Series: Vanderweek 2017 [9]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I should really move on from day 5, h u e, mentions of torture methods, vanderweek day 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rain_shall_fall/pseuds/the_rain_shall_fall
Summary: He was a weapon. He was a puppet. He was a killer. He was a tool of the Agency. He was an agent. He didn’t think he could be anything else. But he bled, he hurt, he felt. He grew tired. He was human.





	I am Human

**Author's Note:**

> _[“I should really move unto Days 6 and 7…″ Altair said as she continued to write drabbles for Day 5.]_  
>  x’D no shit. I love Day 5 but I really need to move on ~~since I am so freaking late.~~ So, here’s the last one inspired by the [collaboART](https://jumin-love.tumblr.com/post/162668583247/vanderweek-day-5-conflict-titled-i-am) of @jumin-love and @cheebsrtd at tumblr. I hope you guys like it even when it went a bit dark even for my liking! > <
> 
> Day 5: Conflict (Angst, Struggle, Distortions)

_‘Mission accomplished. Get back to HQ, Agent Vanderwood.’_ The transmission ended as the brunet made his way back to headquarters, the smell of burning and blood emanating from the crime scene he just left.

HQ was bustling with people. Agents left and right nodded at him, some of them bowed, recognizing that he was one of the best in the lot. He continued his strides till he reached his usual spot by the window, a pint of rum automatically served for him.

This was his life. Always out for missions and work. This had been his life for almost 7 years. He barely remembered life outside the Agency. He couldn’t even remember the smell of anything but gunpowder, blood, and fire with the occasional perfume and smell of sex if he were to go undercover. But the smell of blood would permeate right after the deed has been done.

He remembered the time when he was a rookie. The harsh training, the punishments if he failed a mission, the first time he ever took a life and it was the life of a man, a policeman, a father. ‘He was messing with us,’ his boss would tell him. ‘No one messed with the Agency, Vanderwood.’ No one did. There were attempts, but the Agency had too many weapons – _trained weapons_. They had the money, the influence, and the manpower to subdue any attempts against them.

 _“I just want to see my family again!”_ The scream tore through the halls as eyes flew to the newbie agent being dragged to the basement. Vanderwood watched, the glass against his lips as he took in the despair and tears on the man’s face before he disappeared downstairs. He knew what was going to happen to him. Once an agent started asking for things like ‘vacation’ or ‘family,’ anything that was a ticket to the outside world, the Agency would automatically get rid of them. Poor kid, he had such potential too.

“Agent, your next mission.” A folder was slid towards him, a senior agent sitting across the table with a cup of tea on hand. Vanderwood silently took the files and skimmed through them, only to be surprised to see that his next victim was a mere high school student. The Agency had weird targets sometimes, but he wondered what the student did to garner the attention of such an organization.

“Don’t ask. Just do what you’re told.” Of course. The brunet nodded and took off, planning the death of his next victim. He was in the middle of scanning the bio of his next victim when an arm gripped his, stopping him from moving any further.

“Don’t do this.”

“Why?”

“You’ll regret it. You’ll regret being their weapon.”

“I don’t understand.” The other agent seemed shocked, but it was immediately replaced by contempt and sadness. He let go of Vanderwood, shaking his head.

_“You’re human, Vanderwood. Always remember that.”_

Vanderwood didn’t understand, at that time. He was confused. Even with the insistent begging of his victims, telling him they still had a family and a little sister to take care of, or a wife and a baby not more than 3 months old to go home to, or even just a dog not more than 4 summers, the agent was confused.

The statement still bothered him, even in the middle of tasing someone to their deaths, or watching expelled agents burn to ashes. Even as he was torturing people for information – whipping them, ripping off their nails and fingers, scarring them, pouring bleach down their throats when the information has been extracted – the brunet couldn’t comprehend what his colleague was talking about.

Humanity? He owed everything to the Agency. He owed his life, his loyalty – he was the Agency’s. He belonged to them, and they made sure he knew it. But lately, there had been an unsettling atmosphere brewing within the agents. Vanderwood remembered his senior’s words. And it wasn’t until he was doing clean up duty, it wasn’t until he was burying the corpse of that same senior agent, did he truly understand what he said.

The Agency trained him hard, not giving him even a second to catch his breath. They made him kill – from a mere babe to even an elderly woman. They made him hurt others to protect his own skin. They made him into what he was – a weapon. A puppet to do their dirty bidding. Vanderwood was nothing but a disposable tool that will end up 6 feet beneath the ground, with only the worms feasting on his rotting flesh.

But no matter how much he wanted to escape these ropes that controlled him like a marionette, no matter how much he wanted to tear himself out of the Agency’s grasp, it was impossible. Even with his vast connections, the places he could go and hide to, the Agency was powerful. They had eyes and ear everywhere. Which was why even powerful organizations don’t dare go against them. Which was why revolting agents never got past the first line of defense, even though they knew headquarters like the back of their hand.

_Until Agent Seven-Zero-Seven came into the picture._


End file.
